Fire and Ice
by Lachriel
Summary: Draco/Ginny fluff. Rated for safety. Ever since the Chamber, Ginny's been cold.
1. Chill

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. More will be out, but not before next week. Please leave feedback.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Chill<strong>

It started out simply enough. I saw a younger student standing out in the snow. Most non-Slytherin students would be shocked to learn this, but I'm a pretty nice guy. I try to watch out for the younger students. It was practically a blizzard out, so I did the natural thing and went to make sure the kid was alright.

Then I saw the red hair.

"Weasley."

It was the little one – the girl.

"Malfoy." She didn't even turn to look at me. She just stood staring out towards the forest. Not that you could see it in this weather. She made quite a striking figure, all that flame-colored hair against the white snow.

That was when I noticed she wasn't wearing her cloak. Merlin! She wasn't even wearing shoes! Her bare fingers and toes were taking on a blue tinge.

I didn't even pause to think. I picked her up and carried her inside. Where to next, though? I decided on the kitchens. It would be warm, and I knew the elves wouldn't ask questions.

Weaslet on the other hand –

"What are you doing? Put me down!"

She sounded so shocked and affronted that I nearly laughed. "You were going to get frostbite. We need to get you warmed up." She settled for a moment after that.

"It won't do any good," she whispered forlornly.

"Sure it will," I said with just a touch of my famous sneer. "It'll keep you from losing your fingers and toes. I don't expect the professors will go easy on you just because you can't hold a quill and have to hobble around like a drunken freak." I don't expect that the Death Eaters will spare you just because you can't hold a wand and can't run away.

I was surprised that I cared. But I _did_ care. She sat silently in my arms for the rest of the trip.

There was a pause in the normal activity of the kitchen as we walked in. I set the Weaslet in a chair and draped my cloak over her. "She needs something warm," I said. An instant later we were surrounded by elves trying to give us mugs of chocolate or tea, or bowls of soup, or fresh bread. I chose tea, soup and bread for her, and a chocolate for myself. I waved away the elves and their remaining offerings. They all returned to their work except one.

I was startled to see that it was Dobby, my father's old house elf. I had wondered what had happened to him.

"You is my old bad master's son. What has you been doing to Harry Potter sir's Wheezy's sister? If you has been hurting her, Dobby will be being very cross with you." He _looked_ quite cross.

The Weaslet rolled her eyes at me. "Hello, Dobby," she said. "It's _Ginny_, remember? And Malfoy hasn't been hurting me. So if you'd not say a word of this to Harry _or_ to any of my brothers, I'd appreciate it."

He didn't like it, but after a few more grumbles about my father and I being "bad dark wizards," the elf agreed and left.

"You'd best not be spreading this around either," she said in a threatening tone. Though, the threat was greatly impaired by the fact that she looked pretty helpless at the moment – wrapped up in my cloak and still shivering while she tried to sip her tea.

"Don't worry," I said, surprised to find that I meant it. "I'm Slytherin. I know how to keep a secret."

The Weaslet – _Ginny –_ looked startled at that, as if she'd forgotten. She stood, letting my cloak drop, and stormed out of the kitchen. Confused, I picked up the cloak and her tea and followed her.

"What do you _want_, Malfoy?" Her tone was angry, hateful.

I ignored that for the moment. Couldn't expect anything else from a Gryffindor, really. "I want you to drink this tea and warm up a bit before you go running off barefooted through the drafty corridors."

She looked startled. Then she glared suspiciously at the tea. She made no move to take it from me.

"Look, Ginny, either you drink it or I stun you and take you to the Hospital Wing. You can be Madame Pomfrey's problem then."

"Don't you dare!" She turned her glare on me and snatched the tea away. It sloshed over the edge of the cup and onto her hand. She cried out and dropped the cup. It smashed on the stone floor.

I sighed. "Don't move. You'll cut your feet." Ginny's shoulders slumped in defeat, but she stayed where she was. I stepped carefully around the smashed porcelain. When I was beside her, I wrapped my cloak around her and picked her up. She didn't resist, just lay in my arms. She didn't move or speak until I stopped to open the library doors.

"We're not going to the infirmary?"

"You said you didn't want to. If you've changed your mind..."

"No!"

"I thought not." I set her down and opened the door. Madame Pince barely glanced at us as we passed her desk. Otherwise, the library was deserted – it was beginning to get late. "C'mon. Back this way," I whispered to her.

We walked through the stacks to a little study area that I knew prefects rarely checked on their evening sweeps. I motioned her toward one of the chairs and took a look at her burned hand. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, and a simple charm numbed the pain and protected the injury from further harm.

"Still cold?" Ginny nodded, so I cast a few warming charms on my cloak. "Better?" She nodded again.

Ginny drew her feet up into the chair and pulled the cloak closer around her scrawny frame. She looked... I took a closer look. She looked a little ill, as if she hadn't been eating properly or sleeping well. She was thin, but unnaturally so, and there were dark shadows under her eyes. "What's wrong, then?"

I was thoroughly startled when she burst into tears.

Fortunately, my mother had once told me exactly what to do in such a situation.

I wasn't entirely sure she'd approve of me using her advice to help out a Weasley, never-mind what Father would have to say about it. (Never-mind that her brothers would probably attempt to beat me into oblivion.)

Still, I put my arms around Ginny and gently patted her back. She somehow over the next few minutes ended up seated on my lap, sobbing onto my shoulder. Though I was perhaps still a bit young for it, I could see how (had she not been crying) there was a definite appeal to having a girl (and perhaps this girl in particular) seated where Ginny currently was.

Well, until she stopped crying. At which point she stood rather abruptly and shoved me backwards. The chair I was in scooted backwards several inches and nearly tipped over before I regained my equilibrium.

It was then that I came face-to-face with the full brunt of that famous Weasley temper. It was, truth be told, rather terrifying. But, (truth be told) the way it made her cheeks flush and her eyes shine, it made Ginny look like some sort of vengeful fire goddess. The wand pointed at my face only added to the image.

"What sort of game are you playing at, Malfoy?"

"No game," I said as calmly as I could manage. I remembered suddenly that I'd heard rumors that Ginny Weasley, as a side effect of growing up with so many brothers, had deadly accuracy with her wand and an extensive arsenal of fairly painful hexes at her disposal.

"Was it your _father_, Malfoy? Did _Daddy_ send you to find out what damage his little _prank_ had done – what that bloody _book_ left behind?"

Pieces of the puzzle snapped into place.

"Is _that_ what happened? I didn't know." I hadn't. I'm not really very promising as a potential Death Eater, so Father doesn't tell me much. Ginny's face fell. She lowered her wand and looked like she might cry again. She sat down heavily and drew my cloak around her thin body.

"Are you warmed up, at least?"

"No." No? I checked my warming charms, but they were still working at peak efficiency. "It's not your fault," she admitted reluctantly.

"If you're not warm yet, I really _should_ take you to the infirmary."

"Don't," Ginny said, a hint of pleading in her voice. "They write your parents when you go to the infirmary. I don't want them to know." That was reasoning I could almost understand.

"To know what? That you're stark raving mad and like to run out into blizzards half-dressed?" I tried to keep my tone light, teasing. It was difficult. Teasing isn't something we _do_ in Slytherin. If you're not willing to play for keeps, you keep your mouth shut. I must have succeeded, though. Ginny very nearly smiled.

"The cold. They think I'm all right, that I've just sort of – moved on and forgotten about it." She fell silent.

"But?"

"I haven't. It won't go away. It was so... It was dark when he was inside my head. And his thoughts were cold and cruel. And when I was dying, down in the Chamber with him draining away my soul..." Ginny paused again. "I don't think a Dementor's Kiss could be any colder than I was then. And even when I was out, the cold stayed. I just thought – with the snow – if it was colder outside, it might feel warmer _inside_. But it didn't work."

Ginny looked at me. She was calmer than she had been since I'd found her out in the snow.

"Don't tell anyone. I'm supposed to be all happy and innocent and naive – their precious little Gin-Gin, made of spun glass and set up on a shelf." Her expression turned hostile again. "But if I ever see Tom bloody Riddle again, I'm going to kick his bloody arse. And anyone else's that happens to be in my way."

"I'm sure you will. And, like I said, I'm a Slytherin. I'm good at keeping secrets."

"You'd better be."

I just grinned at her. She turned away after a moment, obviously unsettled.

"Here. You'd better take your cloak back. It's nearly curfew."

I couldn't help smirking. "Don't want to show up in Gryffindor tower wearing a Slytherin cloak?"

"My four larger-than-you brothers would come after you," she stated in a tone that suggested I was either stupid, or at the very least rather dense.

"How would they know it was me?" I asked. "Would you tell them? After all I did to help you, I'm wounded, Ginny." I tried using that light, teasing tone again. This time she _did_ smile.

"You're forgetting Hermione. I'm sure they can spin it so that she'll help. Probably make it sound like they're trying to defend my honor. Which –" Ginny paused and gave me an appraising look that sent a shiver up my spine. Maybe I wasn't really so young after all.

"Well," she continued, "we're alone together, so they'll see it that way anyway. Even though you've been perfectly gentlemanly. Aside from carrying me around all over the castle against my will, I mean."

"Any time, fair maiden," I said, with a formal bow tacked on to the end. "Any time at all."

She laughed! It was quite nice, actually.

We stayed and talked until Madame Pince came and chased us out. I'd have called it flirting if I'd thought at all that Ginny might have liked me. _I_ was certainly growing fond of _her_.

I walked her back to the hallway near the Gryffindor dorms. She handed me back my cloak, giggling over my high-formal farewell and elaborate bow.

"Thank you, Draco." Ginny smiled. "I guess I do feel a bit warmer now. Those were some good warming charms. You'll have to teach them to me some time."

"I could never deny a request from so fair a maiden," I replied, waggling my eyebrows at her. Ginny giggled again and said goodnight.

When she had left, I tossed my cloak back over my own shoulders. I was startled to find that it smelled like her – her scent overlaying my own.

As I walked back to my own dorm, I realized that I had enjoyed talking to Ginny. _Really_ enjoyed it.

I wouldn't at all mind helping her warm up again.


	2. Frost

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. More will be out when I have time. Please leave feedback.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2 - Frost<strong>

I hated the winter.

Hate hate hate.

The snow's pretty enough, but ever since...

Since the night in the Chamber when I nearly died and released a young Voldemort to wreak havoc and death upon the residence of Hogwarts...

(Tell it like it is.)

I've hated the cold.

It feels like I'm dying all over again – like I'm back in the Chamber, waiting, and have just realized how truly, utterly _stupid_ I've been.

Harry saved me.

Harry didn't save me. I'm still down in that stone sarcophagus, cold and stupid and dying.

It doesn't matter to Harry that I'm still dying. He doesn't even notice I'm alive.

(_Why_ doesn't he notice me?)

Draco saved me.

The night he pulled me out of the snow and carried me around the castle like a rag doll. I still felt pretty stupid. But it was a lot warmer.

I could talk to him. He didn't have any expectations of innocence and princess-like purity when it came to me. I could say whatever I wanted.

That was the first time, but it was hardly the only time.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Ginevra Weasly."

I winced. I should never have told him my real name.

"Despite your merciless teasing and atrocious manners –"

"My manners are impeccable," he said, interrupting me with a smirk.

"Impeccably atrocious." I smirked back. I'm a quick learner.

"You were saying?"

"I think you're my best friend." I said it offhand, as if it didn't mater.

I knew he'd know better.

He paused a moment, thinking. "Really? You can't have many other friends then."

His tone was light, teasing – but I think he was more curious than anything.

"Well, there's Luna."

"Lovegood?"

"When she's sane, anyway."

"Who else?"

"Neville. Sort of. When he's not chasing after the Golden Trio."

Like I'm one to talk.

I thought for a moment. "I guess that's it."

I shrugged. I'd spent most of my first year possessed. I hadn't made many friends.

"Not Granger or Potter?" I shook my head. "I'm overwhelmed, Ginny. I'm glad you have the _impeccable_ taste to choose me as your favorite when the other options are Lovegood and Longbottom."

"Any time, Draco."

Draco noticed that I was alive.

(_Why_ did he notice me?)

He noticed that I was cold and dragged me in out of the storm, kicking and screaming, against my will.

Warming up hurts.

Most of the time, I'm still cold.

But slowly, the snow is melting.


	3. Snow

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. More will be out, but not before next week. Please leave feedback.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 - Snow<strong>

She still comes to me on the bad days. Even now that the war is over, now we're out of school, she comes to me.

"It was like this, Draco," Ginny said. "It was so, so, so cold. But all the way through me." She scratched at the frosted window pane, leaving long scores in the delicate swirls of ice. "It wasn't like with the Dementors – you feel like you'll never be happy, never be warm again. I _was_ the cold. There had never been warm. There never would be." She leaned her head against the window, melting a splotch of frost with the warmth of her skin.

I took her hand and led her away from the window. She wasn't crying today, at least.

"I hate being cold. I hate winter."

I didn't. I rarely saw Ginny anymore, except in the winter. I guess its harder to sneak away when we don't live in the same castle.

"I'm never warm enough. Never."

Of course, being from rival houses didn't help – there was a social expectation of mutual hatred. Neither did her overprotective brothers or the bloody boy-who-always-left-Ginny-depressed. I don't know what she sees in him. So he saved the bloody entire world – he's still a prat. He could at least be nicer about rejecting her. But, no – he had to act like he didn't even notice. And he has to have noticed! How could _any_ man not notice Ginny doing everything she can to attract his attention? _I_ would certainly notice.

I seated Ginny in front of the fire and draped a blanket around her shoulders. She drew all her limbs up inside it, curled up, trying to trap all her warmth inside. Ginny looked at me with those pleading brown eyes. How could she always be so cold? The girl is like fire.

I sighed. I couldn't refuse her. I sat down next to her, wrapped my arms around her blanket-wrapped body. I draped another blanket over the both of us, trapping my body-heat for her as well. Ginny gave me a brief smile, relaxed as she warmed up a little. She snuggled into my chest, her ear on my heart as if she was listening to it. Listening, but not hearing.

Ginny was asleep soon enough. I picked her up and took her to one of the guest rooms where the house elves had built up the fire to nearly hotter than I could stand. I laid her on the bed and covered her in quilts and coverlets. And once she was settled in –

I gently kissed Ginny's hair.

I'm no Gryffindor. While Ginny's asleep is the only time I could be brave enough to try something like that. I _knew_ she didn't love me. At least she didn't hate me anymore for what my father had done to her. Still, I'm not brave enough to tell her how much I need her.

She'd reject me. She'd find someone else to comfort her and keep her warm.

I'm not brave enough to risk not seeing her again.

I'm no Ravenclaw either. I'm not smart enough to give up. I can't give up hoping that someday she _could_ love me. I hoped it would be before Potter woke up and realized...

I didn't even want to think about that.

I didn't want to think of my Ginny and Potter together. Post-war, there were very few people left alive that I genuinely hated, but Potter was still right up there at the top of the list.

But, if I'm being honest, it was mostly because he had a better chance than I did.

Someday, he was going to see that Ginny had been carrying a torch for him. Someday, I'd be the one that got burned.

I'd be the one left out in the cold.


	4. Ice

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. The story's completely completed (squee!) and will be released as I have time. Please leave feedback.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Ice<strong>

"Say yes, Gin." His eyes were happy, pleading, looking at me as if I were all that mattered.

How often had I dreamed of this?

Why, after all this time, am I still so stupid?

"Of course she'll say yes, mate!" Ron was still as loud and obnoxious as ever. "She's only had a crush on you since our first year!"

At least I'm not alone in being stupid. It must run in the family.

Harry grinned and blushed.

Endearing.

I didn't care.

I smiled.

(They _expect_ it.)

I cried.

(They can't see why. Are they _blind_? Was I?)

I don't say yes.

They don't notice.

Harry slips the engagement ring on my finger. I smile more. I cry more. I pretend to be happy.

It's starting to snow – the first real snow of the winter.

I'm so cold.

Mum laughs, cries. "Now you'll _really_ be family," she says, crushing Harry in one of her suffocating hugs. I suppose I feel a little guilty about that.

But not enough.

Dad breaks out the firewhisky. It's the good stuff he saves for special occasions – promotions, impending grandchildren, the death of dark wizard terrorists. (*cough* Voldemort *cough*)

And, apparently, engagements.

I accept a glass, but don't really drink it.

Mum looks me over – wondering if I'm pregnant and just waiting for a ceremony to make the announcement.

I'm furious. Just because that's how _she_ trapped Dad – how _she_ would do things...

I smile.

I wait till they're all smashing pissed, drunk off their rocks, passed out or nearly so.

I don't even think to take my wand.

Or put on my coat.

Or my shoes.

I run out into the snow.


	5. Stone

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. I finally have a review! All of you who read this fic without reviewing (you know who you are), can thank my reviwer for having this next chapter so quickly. Reviews let me know that someone cares whether I update or not. ^_^

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><p><strong>Chapter 5 - Stone<strong>

It was late. I hadn't expected any visitors, but there was a knock on my door.

Ginny stood shivering on the doorstep – no cloak, no shoes, fingers and toes turning blue. I sighed.

"Haven't we already done this?" I asked as I let her in. Joking has become easier over the years.

She didn't answer. Instead Ginny squeezed her eyes shut like she was trying to hold back tears. She leaned up against me, rested her head on my shoulder.

"Merlin! You're frozen through!" It hadn't been quite this bad in a while. "Did you _walk_ here?"

"Ran," she stuttered out through suppressed sobs and chattering teeth.

I gathered her up into my arms, carried her into the sitting room. "Stupid Gryffindor impulses. I swear, Gin, if you get sick from this, I'll hex you." I was worried – nearly five miles with no protection from the cold aside from exertion. Whatever it was that triggered this episode, it had to have been bad.

At least I'd had practice with frostbite and hypothermia over the years, courtesy of the petite redhead I was settling in front of a roaring fire.

I gave her potions and cast charms. I wrapped her in one of her favorite blankets. (It had permanent warming charms, and was covered with rabbits. It had amused her to no end the first time she'd seen it.) I had the house elves bring tea, but it sat untouched.

Ginny didn't move. She sat like a frozen statue, staring into the flames. Her left hand was clenched tightly and cradled in her right – as if she were holding something fragile, but which might escape if she relaxed at all.

She flinched when I took her hand, slowly uncurled the fingers.

I couldn't help staring at what I found there.

It was a ring – a fancy Muggle engagement ring. The stone was turned in so that it looked as if she were protecting it in her palm, keeping it safe from the chilly winter night.

I let go of her hand.

"Potter?"

She nodded, slowly, as if she's ashamed of it but can't help admitting it to me. She started to cry – not the wild thunderstorm sobbing that's a normal part of Ginny, but slow, silent tears.

I'll _kill_ that prat.

"I don't know what to do," she whispered.

"Did you say yes?"

"No!"

For a moment, she looked alive again, my angry fire goddess.

"But..." she crumpled. "But everyone assumes – Mum and Dad and everyone expect it."

_I_ expected it. Ginny had been chasing Potter for years. She'd dated half the school in the process, including Daphne Greengrass and Lavender Brown, who had eventually ended up together. (And, boy was Ronald Weasley shocked.)

Of course, by 'dating' I mean parading attractive people in front of him in her company in order to make him jealous.

He hadn't noticed. It had only served to make _me_ jealous.

"Do you _want_ to marry him?"

Ginny shook her head and buried her face in my shoulder. I let her cry a bit more.

I couldn't help grinning.

"Right," I said at last. "Here's what we're going to do. First, take off that bloody ring. I'm sure that stone is making you colder."


	6. Sparks

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. Please review. Reviews let me know that someone cares whether I update or not. And there are still two chapters to go! ^_^

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><p><strong>Chapter 6 - Sparks<strong>

Draco took me home in the morning.

The house was quiet. No one seemed to have noticed my departure the night before, or my absence.

I dressed properly for the winter weather this time. I quickly packed what I needed and shrunk it down to fit in my pockets.

Harry was waiting in the kitchen. I hadn't expected that.

I was suddenly nervous – as if I were a ten-year-old again, suddenly confronted with the reality of my childish celebrity crush.

"I was a bit worried when you ran out last night."

He'd noticed?

"Are you going for a walk? Mind if I join you?"

I shrugged. Maybe it was best to tell him instead of just running away. Certainly it was more Gryffindor.

We walked in silence, ending up near the makeshift Quidditch pitch.

I had to say _something_. Draco would be back to pick me up soon.

"Harry..."

He smiled at me calmly, contented – secure in his fantasy that we were in love.

I was suddenly furious.

I thrust out my hand, shoving the ring at him.

Harry calmly glanced down at it. He calmly picked it up.

"Well, that was quicker than I expected," he said softly. I didn't understand. He wasn't upset – not hurt, not angry. He just sounded mildly surprised. "Luna was right. You're decisive when something's important to you."

"Luna?"

"She lent me the ring. I expected it to be at least a fortnight before she got it back." He slipped the engagement ring into his pocket.

"Lent?" It was as if the whole world were spinning out of focus. It didn't make any sense.

"Well, I knew you'd say no – because there was someone else. You just had to let go of your crush on me to see it."

"You knew?"

Harry grinned. "I see more than people guess. Mind you, I have no idea _who_ he is, but I could tell there was someone."

"But then –" Then why propose at all? Why get everyone's hopes up and make me feel so trapped?

"You needed a push. I didn't intend to propose in front of your family, sorry about that, but Ron saw the ring. Before I knew it, everyone else knew too."

Stupid Ron.

"Not that we _couldn't_ have made it work, but it would have been weird."

"Weird? Weird how?" I felt like a parrot, mindlessly repeating back everything he said.

Harry shrugged. "You've always been kind of like a sister to me. Not that I was never attracted to you, but it always felt... taboo, like you were off-limits."

I laughed. "You sure that wasn't just the threat of Ronnikins and the twins?"

"Nah. Once they realized that you growing up was inevitable, they decided I was the best choice. Honestly, this is as much to get them off _my_ back as it is to get you moving. Whoever he is, he won't wait forever."

I smiled. "We're... sort of eloping."

"Now? Good. That'll make the transition easier for your mum – in that she won't have a choice about it once its over and done."

"My thoughts exactly," said a cool voice behind us. "And may I compliment you on your ruse? It was quite effective – nearly clever enough to be a Slytherin's."

"Only nearly?" Harry didn't seem sufficiently surprised at seeing Draco striding purposefully towards us. "Well, that's fair. The Sorting-hat only _nearly_ put me in Slytherin."

That brought Draco up short. He looked Harry over as if re-evaluating him. "I ought to _kill_ you for driving Ginny out into the snow with your bloody plan."

"You could," Harry said with a grin, "or, as an apology, since that wasn't really part of the plan, I could offer to act as witness and we could all be well on our way before Molly gets up to make breakfast. I think you'll find my plan much better. Fewer bodies to hide. And you avoid facing the wrath of Molly Weasley."

Draco stared at Harry.

Harry grinned at Draco.

I giggled, breaking the silence.

"Fine, Potter. But only because we still need a witness."


	7. Flames

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: Fluff. Multi-chapter fluff. It began as a one-shot, but grew. Please review. Reviews let me know that someone cares whether I update or not. Hm... This chapter is significantly shorter than I remember it being when I wrote it. Oh well. One more to go!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7 - <strong>**Flames**

Potter's not so bad, I guess. And not nearly as stupid as he looks.

He might have made a fairly decent Slytherin.

The ceremony was short, simple – more paperwork than pomp.

"We can have a larger ceremony after we tell our families," I told Ginny.

"If they don't disown us." She tried to sound like she was joking, but I could hear genuine worry.

I shrugged. "If they do, then they won't be invited."

She giggled. I love when she laughs. I love to hear her being happy.

"Anyway, we'll have another week before we have to tell them anything."

Harry's going into hiding for the week too. We assume that since both Ginny _and_ Harry have disappeared, the Weasley's won't be too worried – dead wrong, but not worried.

As for Ginny and I, we're going someplace tropical. Sand and sun – just the two of us. If I can't get her warmed through by the end of the week, it won't be for lack of trying.


	8. Explosions

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters or places.

Author's Note: This is the last installment of the "Fire and Ice" story. Thanks to everyone who read, and especially to those who took the time to review - most often with demands for further updates. Sorry it took so long to get out, but I ran into a rough patch with my mental health. Better now, though. So without further ado - here's what I like to think of as the punchline of this story.

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><p><strong>Chapter 8 - <strong>**Explosions**

"You did _WHAT_?"

"Eloped, Mum. It's really quite simple. I wish you wouldn't shout."

"What _I_ don't understand," Ron interjected, "is why Mal-ferret is here."

I stood squarely between Draco and Harry as we faced down my mother.

"My _baby_!" Mum wailed. "My only little girl! Married!" She nearly grabbed me in one of her smothering embraces, but last minute noticed my expression and switched to target Harry. "My baby girl, a _Potter_!"

"It's _Malfoy_," I said.

"I _know_ who he is. What's he _doing_ here?"

Mum released Harry, who staggered over near Ron. Then he thought better of it and put a little distance between himself and his friend.

"No," I said. "I mean, it's not Potter."

I gave it a moment.

Ron turned purple and his eyes looked like they might pop out.

Mum gasped.

Harry grinned and tried not to chuckle at all the shocked expressions.

Draco took my hand and smirked at everyone in the room.

"It's Malfoy."


End file.
